Anywhere But Here
by rachhudson
Summary: She knows she's never felt this way before, and it doesn't even matter that she doesn't know exactly what they are. She's Santana and he's Sam, and somehow they just work. Sam/Santana


**So I'm kind of in love with the pairing of Sam/Santana. I don't know why. But I hope you like it. (:**

* * *

**Anywhere But Here**

"_Is this the end of the moment,  
__Or just a beautiful unfolding of a love that will never be?  
__Or may be  
__Everything that I never thought could happen  
__Or ever come to pass, and  
__I wonder, if maybe  
__If maybe I could be  
__All you ever dreamed_

_Cause you are beautiful inside,  
__So lovely, and I  
__Can't see why I'd do anything without you, you are  
__And when I'm not with you, I know that it's true,  
__That I'd rather be anywhere but here without you."_

* * *

i.

The first day he shows up to glee rehearsal, she smiles at him. He doesn't notice. He only has eyes for Quinn Fabray. Why does every guy she shows interest in have to be drawn to Quinn? She decides he's not that cute anyway, with his clearly dyed hair and his mediocre muscles. Besides, she and Puck still have an understanding, and she wouldn't want to mess with that.

She's interested in the new kid, but not that interested. She's Santana Lopez. She doesn't have to care about other people.

Mr. Schue starts talking then, and he introduces the new kid as Sam.

Santana thinks she'll just stick to The New Kid.

(She doesn't want to get too attached.)

* * *

ii.

She might have just ruined Finn and Rachel's perfect little relationship. Honestly, she can't bring herself to care.

Sam (The New Kid she mentally corrects herself) seems to care though. Somehow, they're both alone in the choir room, and she doesn't ask him to or even acts like she wants to hear him talk, but suddenly he's talking. And she's, like, _listening_.

"I just… Finn and Rachel were great, you know? And everyone thought they were perfect. And if _they _can fall apart, then… what about me and Quinn? Can we make it when they can't?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Oh, _please_. Yeah, obviously, their relationship was _perfect_. He _lied _to her about sleeping with _me_, for, like, seven months. And rumor is she made out with Puckerman to get back at him. Sounds fucking _peachy _to me."

Sam stares at her for a second. "Maybe they just did those things because they love each other?"

She snorts. "That's one fucked up way of saying 'I love you.'"

He shrugs. "Maybe love's just really fucked up."

She pauses. She hadn't thought of that.

Suddenly Mercedes and Tina enter the choir room, giggling like crazy. Santana retreats to the other side of the room quickly. She doesn't want anyone to think she _likes _talking to The New Kid.

But she can't get what he said out of her head.

"_Maybe love's just really fucked up."_

* * *

iii.

She sees him watching her from the sideline. It's just a split second, but she sees it.

He sees that she sees and quickly acts like he's been watching Quinn, but she knows. He was watching her.

She smiles to herself. She knows it shouldn't make her happy, but it does.

Maybe she's just been lonely for too long. Puck's been hanging out with the friendless freak, Rachel (and pining for Quinn, like always), so she hasn't seen him in a while. And Sam (she's given up on calling him The New Kid; it's been over half a year anyways) is mighty fine.

Too bad he seems to actually like Quinn. Santana's never been seriously interested in a blonde before. (Even though, 1. He's not an actual blonde; anyone can see that and 2. She is definitely not seriously interested in him. She's barely interested in him at all.)

The point is, it's the last football game of the year, and she and Quinn are cheering on the sidelines, and, for a split second, her eyes and Sam's meet. And she feels this… _spark_.

But she quickly pushes it away, because she cannot like a boy that is already Quinn Fabray's. It never turns out well.

* * *

iv.

Quinn quits the Cheerios. It's a big ordeal, with Coach Sylvester yelling and Quinn yelling right back at her. Quinn says that she's ashamed to belong to this group, because it's all about exclusion and bringing other people down and she's _sick _of it. (Santana personally thinks she's acting like a whiny child. She doesn't say anything, though. She's having way too much fun watching this play out.)

Quinn says she'd rather stick with glee, where everyone is welcome, thank you very much. She storms out, letting down her hair from its high ponytail as she leaves.

Coach Sylvester is speechless (for a second). Then she regains her composure and turns to Santana. "Boobs McGee. Congratulations. I'm promoting you from the bottom of the pyramid to the very top. You're my new head cheerleader. I happen to know that you're on six different types of birth control, so I don't have to worry about a repeat of shame and horror, like last year. Don't make me regret it."

Santana smirks. "I've got this, coach." She feels so elated, and she's finally getting what is rightfully hers: The coveted spot of head cheerleader. Best. Day. Ever.

* * *

v.

She's fixing her hair using the mirror on her locker door (because now that she's head cheerleader, she can't have a single hair out of place in her ponytail) when she hears the shouting. It's just after third period, and the hallways are still thick with students.

"I thought you'd understand!"

Santana grins. She knows that voice. Trying to remain inconspicuous, she leans around her locker to see Quinn and Sam, faces red and voices raised, standing feet apart in the middle of the hallway.

"Quinn, you committed social _suicide!_ What about all that crap you told me about us being prom king and queen? Didn't that mean _anything_?"

Quinn rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. "Maybe I just realized there are more important things than becoming prom queen. I need to find myself, without having to worry about what other people think, Sam. I can't _worry _about that stuff anymore."

He stares at her. "It's like I don't even _know _you anymore!"

Her voice is softer now, as she says, "Maybe you never did, Sam."

Quinn walks away, glaring at the people crowded around to witness the fight. Santana quickly pretends that she has been reapplying her concealer the whole time, but Quinn still gives her a look that could kill.

Once Quinn is gone, Santana peeks back around her locker. Sam's still standing in the middle of the hallway, hands now gripping his hair. Clearly, he's stressed.

Santana smirks. She knows _exactly _what he needs.

* * *

vi.

"So, I heard you and Barbie fighting today in the hallway."

His head snaps up and he quickly gets up from the bench. "_Jesus_, Santana! What the hell are you doing in the boys' locker room?"

She rolls her eyes. "Um, talking to you? Besides, it's nothing I've never seen before."

Sam clears his throat. "I just don't understand why… why Quinn would throw everything away. I mean, she's just constantly talking about how it's so important to be popular and to be more than the girl who had a baby, and now…"

"She quit the Cheerios," Santana finishes.

Sam nods, sitting back down. Santana walks over to him, sitting down beside him. "You know, I could help with your reputation and everything, if that's what you're worried about…"

He looks over at her hopefully.

"I mean, I _am _the head cheerleader now."

He nods.

"The perfect ego boost? Doing the nasty. With me. Ask any guy on the football team; they'll tell you the same thing."

Sam crinkles his brow. "I – I don't know. I mean, Quinn and I aren't actually broken up."

"Oh, _come on_!" Santana says, realizing too late that she's speaking too loudly. "I mean, really. It's Quinn. God knows she's not gonna give you any."

Sam looks at her, and Santana feels like he's seeing so much more than just her, like he's seeing into her soul or something cheesy like that. God, she needs to stop letting Brittany talk her into watching so many gooey chick-flicks.

"Sleeping with me won't represent beating Quinn, Santana," he says slowly. She blinks. How does he know what she's hinting at? How is reading her mind? They don't even _know _each other that well.

"But it _will_," she insists, before she can stop herself. "I mean, I'm guessing Miss Chastity hasn't done it with you, right? So then I'd win."

"It's not about winning or losing," he tells her. "It's about doing it because you care about someone. And I thought I cared about Quinn, but now… I don't know. I'm in a really weird place. And I think – I think you are, too. So maybe we could just try to be friends? You know, talk about stuff. Because, honestly? I don't have too many friends, and I get the feeling you don't either. No offense."

She glares at him. "Why would I want friends? I have Brittany. And I never pegged you for one of those 'let's talk about our feelings' pussies. _God_, I can't believe I actually offered to _fuck _you." She gets up and heads for the door.

"Santana, wait, that's not what I meant –"

"Just save it, Evans." She walks out the door without so much as a second glance back at him.

* * *

vii.

The next day when Santana walks into the choir room, she notices that Sam and Quinn aren't sitting next to each other, but are sitting on opposite sides of the room. She looks curiously between the two of them, Sam (mindlessly staring ahead, eyes unfocused, as Tina and Mike chat next to him) and Quinn (talking in hushed tones to Puck). Quinn (putting her hand on Puck's arm). Quinn (smiling slightly at something Puck's saying).

Santana sees red. How is it that Quinn _always _gets what should be rightfully Santana's?

She sits down in the front row, in between Brittany and Rachel. (Thankfully, ever since Finn dumped her, Rachel's been quieter than usual, so Santana doesn't feel the need to slap her across the face.)

"Hey, _Puckerman_," she says venomously, turning around to glare at him.

Puck rolls his eyes. "Not now, Santana, okay?"

Quinn looks between the two of them, then says, "No. Say it, Santana. Say everything you've been meaning to say to me since the moment we met."

Santana laughs, but it's humorless. "Oh, I will, Blondie. You get _everything _you want; you just have to bat those pretty little eyelashes and everyone bows down at your feet. Well, I'm _sick _of it. I always come in second because of you, you know that? And I'm _done_. You've bounced from one perfect little boyfriend to the next, and I get your sloppy seconds. Except for Puck. I had Puck, and you couldn't stand it. So now you have to sweep in and take that away from me too? You're just a stuck-up _bitch_, Fabray."

Quinn remains expressionless throughout Santana's speech. Santana is now aware that every head in the choir room is turned toward them, but she doesn't care. Quinn takes in a breath, then speaks. "Wow. I expected a lot worse." Santana opens her mouth, but Quinn keeps talking. "Oh, no. It's my turn now. You know what you are, Lopez? You're just jealous. You've _always been _jealous. And I'm done being in this competition that you seem to think we're in. I'm just living my life, alright? And you should live yours. I know you're pissy because Puck hasn't asked for a booty call in ages or whatever, but maybe he's _finally _got his priorities straight. In case you forgot, we had a _baby _together. And maybe you should just _back off _and let him go."

Santana is speechless for what might just be the first time in her life. And she gets this sick feeling in her stomach because everyone else is now either giggling quietly or _clapping. _Once again, Quinn comes off as the fucking hero. She feels the tears beginning to sting her eyes, and she knows that if she cries in front of these people, she'll show weakness. So she runs, nearly knocking over Mr. Schue on her way out the door.

She doesn't make it to the girls' bathroom, but, instead, she just sits out in the hallway, tears streaming down her cheeks. She cries because Quinn saw right through her, saw everything that was true. She's been jealous of Quinn. In the past, all she wanted was Puck, but lately, all she's wanted was for Quinn to feel what it's like to be at the bottom. Honestly, she doesn't even care if she has Puck right now; good for her. Santana will just be alone like she always is.

She hears the choir room door open, and she quickly wipes at her face, staring at the lockers in front of her. She feels someone slide down the wall to sit beside her.

"Hey," Sam says softly. "You okay?"

Santana sniffs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She can see Sam turn to look at her from the corner of her eye. "Santana, you're obviously upset."

She turns to glare at him. "You don't know anything about me, pretty boy."

"That may be true," he allows, "but I'd like to. Remember what I said, yesterday, about us being friends? Getting to know each other? I meant it."

"And I told you," she says, growing impatient, "that I don't _need _any more friends. I'm not friends with guys, because fuckbuddies don't count as friends, and you already shot that down." She pauses, swallowing. "And obviously it turned out _so _well with Puckerman."

Sam nods. "Exactly. So maybe you could use a friend?"

She doesn't answer, just turns to stare at the lockers again.

"Quinn and I broke up," he says after a few seconds.

Santana snorts. "No shit."

"Don't you want to know why?" She sits in silence. "Okay, I'll tell you anyways. I mean, yeah, she quit the Cheerios, but we probably could have gotten past that. But then I realized that she wasn't over Puck. Like, I'd just see her staring at him sometimes. And at first I ignored it because I was just so into her."

She glances over at him, but he's not looking at her anymore; he's staring at the lockers. "I knew that Quinn had a baby last year. I mean, I heard about it on my first day; everyone was talking about it. It was a few days before I heard about who the dad was. Then I heard it was Puck. And, later, when I started liking Quinn, I just ignored it, the feelings she was probably holding for Puckerman, because I wanted to be with Quinn _so badly_. I knew I was good at playing the nice guy, so I just figured everything would work out, because the nice guy always gets the girl, you know?"

He laughs bitterly. "Well, yesterday, Puck came up to me in the hallway, after Quinn and I had our shouting match. He pinned me up against the wall and said, 'Evans, if you don't know when you have a good thing, then you don't deserve to have her. Can't you see she wasn't happy? She's doing what's best for her. Now, you can support that, or you can fuck off. Just don't hurt her, okay? Otherwise, you'll have me to answer to.'" He pauses. "He was right. I broke things off with Quinn last night because I knew she still loved him. And he was so much better for her than me."

Santana smiles slightly, then clear her throat. "Thanks, Sam."

He raises his eyebrows.

She shoves him playfully. "You know, for still wanting to be friends with me, for whatever reason. And for coming out here to see if I was okay."

He smiles at her. "Well, Brittany wanted to do it, but I said I would. I figured I could make a new friend today, whether she wanted to be friends or not."

Santana laughs. Then, she says quietly, "You were wrong, though."

He looks confused. "We're not friends?"

She shakes her head. "No, we are. Or, we can be. I just meant, you were wrong, when you said Puck was better for Quinn than you." Hesitantly, she reaches over to touch his arm with her fingers. "He's got nothing on you."

Sam smiles at her, and Santana doesn't think she's ever seen anything so beautiful.

* * *

viii.

She and Sam start hanging out – as friends only, to her dismay. She may have been hesitant at first, but now she can admit (at least to herself if not to anyone else) that she's starting to form more-than-platonic feelings for Sam.

She shuts her locker to come face to face with Brittany, Artie-less for the first time in a while. "Hey!" Brittany says brightly.

"Hi."

"Do you want to come over after school? My sister's going over to her boyfriend's house, so we can play Mario Kart Wii in peace."

Santana cracks a smile. "Isn't your sister seven?"

Brittany nods.

Santana shakes her head. "I'd love to, Brit, honestly, but I can't. I'm hanging out with Sam today."

Brittany looks confused. "Sam? Is he your boyfriend now? Because I thought you didn't date boys. Just … you know. Had sex with them."

"Yeah, I don't," Santana says quickly. "Sam and I are just friends."

Brittany stares at her for a second, with her big doe eyes. Santana looks away.

"You're not telling me something," Brittany declares. She may not be bright, but she is insightful.

Santana forces out a laugh. "Brit, that's ridiculous. I tell you everything. You're my best friend."

"Are you sure?" Brittany asks. "Because you aren't usually friends with boys, unless you sleep with them. And because it seems like you wanna hang out with Sam more than you wanna hang out with me."

Santana sighs. "That's not true. We'll hang out tomorrow, okay? You can spend the night at my house."

Brittany brightens, a smile spreading across her face. "Okay. Can we watch The Lion King?"

Santana smiles, linking her pinky with Brittany's. "Sure thing, Brit."

Sam passes her in the hallway, and he smiles at her. She feels her stomach do a sort of flip. She really needs to stop acting like this. This is completely non-Santana behavior. She needs to snap out of it, and fast.

* * *

ix.

Sam picks her up at four and then they head to the mall. As they're walking, she marvels at how _easy _it is to talk to Sam. Sure, he rambles on about that stupid Avatar movie with the blue aliens with it, and they even get into a little argument over whether it's actually better than Avatar: The Last Airbender (because Santana point-blank refuses to believe Avatar could ever surpass the cartoon show about the Asian monk), but other than that, he's good company.

"C'mon, it's got _everything_," Sam's saying as they sit down at the food court. (He pulls her chair out for her, like a true gentleman, and she has to keep reminding herself that it's not a date. It's _not_.) "Action, drama, and even romance." He cocks an eyebrow at her. "And you wanna say that some dumb cartoon is better than that?"

Santana scoffs. "_Please_. The Last Airbender was a _fantastic _show. First of all, it centered around not only Aang, but Katara as well, showing that a girl could be just as powerful as a boy. And it had a little bit of romance, too. Plus, Prince Zuko was a total babe, ugly burn and all. And Sokka! Oh, don't get me started on him. Also of hunk status, and hilarious to boot." She winks at him, stealing one of his fries.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Avatar had a strong female character, too, ya know! Neytiri is a freaking warrior princess. You can't get much more powerful than that." Noticing she still looks skeptical, he adds, "You do realize it's a cartoon, right?"

She narrows her eyes. "They made a live action movie, too."

"Oh, _my _bad. And was it everything you'd ever hoped it'd be?"

She sighs. "Well, the cartoon was better. But it wasn't bad."

"But did they have their own _language_?" Sam persists. Santana can't help but notice that he kind of looks adorable when he's really into something, like he is now. "Because the Na'vi have their own _language_."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, no, I guess they don't."

"HA!" Several people turn to look as Sam celebrates what he seems to think is a victory. "I win!"

Santana shoots him a smile. "Good! Because, guess what? Winner's buying the ice cream!"

"What?" He stares at her in disbelief. "That's not fair, Lopez!"

She shrugs. "Well, _I'm _not buying the ice cream."

He sighs, defeated, and pulls out his wallet. "I'll be back. Flavor preference?"

She beams at him. "Cookies and cream."

* * *

x.

"I forgot how good this movie is!" Brittany squeals as the two lion cubs run from the hyenas on the screen.

Santana laughs half-heartedly. "Yeah, it's a good one."

Brittany frowns, then grabs the remote, pausing the movie. "San, something's bothering you. I can tell. And we're best friends, and best friends tell each other everything, even when it might be weird or awkward, like the time I told you about how Artie likes it when I –"

"Okay, _okay_!" Santana shouts, waving her arms in the air. "I get it. It's just… this is new for me, Brit. I think I… I think I like Sam."

Brittany's brow furrows. "You mean… like you wanna sleep with him?"

Santana shakes her head. "That's what's so scary about it. I just… I wanna be with him. I want him to take me out on real dates, and to kiss me just because and… and dedicate songs to me in glee club." She sighs. "I know it's dumb…"

"It's not dumb," Brittany says. "It's romantic. And, uh… endangering!"

Santana raises her eyebrow. "Did you mean 'endearing'?"

Brittany smiles in relief. "Yeah, totally."

Santana smirks. "Been letting Artie tutor you in English?"

Brittany's doe eyes widen into a look of pure innocence. "How did you know?"

Santana laughs. "Let's just watch the rest of the movie."

"Okay!" Brittany agrees, happily pressing the play button.

Santana watches the rest of the movie feeling slightly better. It feels good, telling Brittany about her feelings for Sam. But she also feels like there is no going back now. Now her feelings for Sam are out in the open, and she can't ignore them any longer.

* * *

xi.

It's March now, and prom fever hits McKinley. Rachel and Finn are back together, and if Santana has to hear Berry talk about how she wants to arrange an opening where she walks in like Hilary Duff from _A Cinderella Story _one more _time_, she might actually punch her.

"If I get prom king, I could truly rise to the top, San," Sam says as they walk together down the hallway. "I mean, really. Maybe it'll even give me the confidence boost to get the quarterback position for good, next year. Finn's a nice guy and my friend and everything, but I _need _that quarterback position."

"Hey, now that Finn's back with that hobbit, you've got prom king in the _bag_," Santana tells him with a wink.

He smiles lightly at her. "It'll help if I can take a girl that has a good chance at getting prom queen," he says with a sigh.

_This is it, _Santana thinks. _This is when he's going to ask me. _

"I was thinking of asking Emily Greenstead. Think she'll go for me?" he asks with a grin on his face.

Her heart drops, sinking into the pit of her stomach. "Emily Greenstead?" she says slowly. "Cheerio? Redhead? _Senior_?"

He nods. "Yeah, yeah. Since she's a Cheerio, think you can put in a good word for me? Maybe… talk me up a bit?"

She can't even pretend to smile anymore. "Sure," she says, her voice monotone. "I'd be honored."

"Hey." He stops walking and puts a hand on her arm. "Is something up with you?"

She rolls her eyes. "No. I'm fucking _fantastic_. Why do you ask?"

"It just… seems like you're being a little hostile towards me, and I don't know why."

"Hostile?" She laughs, but it's humorless. She starts to walk away. "Whatever, Evans. Have fun with Miss _Greenstead_!" she yells back at him.

"Santana!" he calls after her.

She gives him the finger.

* * *

xii.

She's crying like she literally hasn't cried since elementary school. She comes home and collapses onto her bed and just _sobs_. This is why she sticks to sex only, why she doesn't let herself get emotionally attached. She can't deal with heartbreak.

Her phone buzzes beside her. Thinking it's Brittany, she looks at the message.

_hey. you ok? you seemed upset. –Sam _

She decides to ignore it, switching on her TV instead. She's flipping mindlessly through the channels when it buzzes again.

_San, plz talk to me. _

For the first time in forever, Santana shuts the phone off. She just wants to wallow in her misery. She just wants to be alone.

* * *

xiii.

"Hey, Santana."

She keeps walking.

"Santana, wait up!"

She whips around. "Can I _help _you, Evans?"

He flinches as if she had slapped him. "I just wanna talk, San. Can we please talk?"

Glee practice has just ended, and Mr. Schue is watching them curiously. Sam's got this sad look on his face, and she can't say no to him.

"Fine," she says, pursing her lips. "But not here." She glances back over at Mr. Schue, who is now pretending to inspect the piano.

She grabs the collar of Sam's shirt and hauls him out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind her. She hopes Mr. Schue gets the message.

"Jeez, San, you're a lot stronger than I would've thought," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

She glares at him, crossing her arms. "What do you want?"

He looks into her eyes (it's a little unnerving, really) and says, "You've been ignoring my texts. Just tell me what I did, Santana, and I'll fix it, I swear. I miss hanging out with you."

She rolls her eyes. "I just… I can't tell you, Sam. Okay? Just forget about it. Forget about _me_. It's probably best if we don't hang out any more."

She turns to go, but he grabs her arm gently, spinning her around to face him.

"Brittany told me, San," he says, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know about your feelings for me."

Santana feels her heart sink down to her knees. How could Brittany do this? Sure, she's a little simple-minded, but she's always been loyal. "I'm going to kill her," she growls. "Look, Sam, I know you don't –"

She's cut off when, suddenly, his lips are melding to hers. She pulls away and looks at him accusingly. He's smiling, and suddenly, she knows. "You _tricked _me!"

He smiles even wider, giving her the answer.

"Brittany didn't tell you anything, did she?"

"Nope," he says. "But I just needed to know if you _did _have feelings for me, and I knew you weren't going to _tell _me."

"But… what about Emily Greenstead?"

He shrugs. "What about her?"

"You… you don't want to take her to prom?"

He grins, cupping her cheek with his palm. "Not if you'll go with me. Honestly, we're the clear shoo-ins for king and queen."

She grins back at him. "That is true."

"I'm going to kiss you now," he says. "Again."

She smiles as his lips meet hers once more.

* * *

xiv.

She's distracted during glee. She and Sam have been doing… whatever it is they're doing for a week now, but she doesn't know how to classify it. Sure, they've made out and held hands and she's thinking about having sex with him this weekend (because it's been killing her that they haven't done it yet. Santana's not one to wait.), but she doesn't know if they're officially dating or not, and the last thing she wants to do is _ask _Sam.

She's so distracted, she doesn't know exactly what's going on until it's happening. Sam's standing up, and then he says something about dedicating a "special song to a special someone" (and she works on trying not to glare at everyone who's now snickering), and then the music kicks in. And she realizes he's singing. _To her_.

She smiles as he makes eye contact with her and begins to sing. She _knows_ this song. She _likes_ this song. She told him, and he remembers. She knows she risks losing her rep as the top bitch of the school, but he's too cute and she's too happy to not grin like an idiot.

"_Do you ever feel already buried deep? / Six feet under scream / But no seems to hear a thing. / Do you know that there's / Still a chance for you / Cause there's a spark in you." _

He takes her hand and hauls her out of her seat, dancing goofily around her. She lets out a giggle, and she can see the wide eyes of the other members of glee club watching them, amazed. She begins to sing with him, because she can't _not_. This song's too perfect. He's too perfect.

"_Baby, you're a firework / C'mon, let your colors burst / Make 'em go / Oh / Oh / Oh / You're gonna leave 'em fallin' down / own / own." _

She knows she's never felt this way before, and it doesn't even matter that she doesn't know exactly what they are. She's Santana and he's Sam, and somehow they just work. She's happy when she's with him, and he's not ashamed of her.

She knows it's not perfect in most people's eyes, but in hers, it is. She never got to be the princess, just the evil stepsister. Now, she can be Cinderella, and Sam can be her Prince Charming.

* * *

xv.

Sam doesn't win prom king, and Santana doesn't win prom queen, and, normally, that would make Santana upset, but she's been a lot less irritable since she started dating Sam. (She asked him, and he said _of course _they were official, so she wondered how she could ever doubt that in the first place.) She's just glad that she came here with Sam and that she's the girl he wants to dance with all night long.

"You know, I think I caught Finn staring at your ass earlier," he remarks lightly as they slow dance on the dance floor.

She laughs. "Yeah, right. You should've picked someone else, because now I _know _you're lying. He hasn't looked at a single person but Rachel all night. He ran into the freaking punch table, that's how dedicated he was. But thanks anyway, babe. It's the thought that counts."

He chuckles, then clears his throat, looking down at their feet. "So, uh. I booked a hotel room. If, you know, you get bored or… something."

She smirks. "I'm not going to have sex with you just because I'm bored." He looks crestfallen, but she continues. "I'm going to have sex with you because I have been dying to jump you since the first day of glee club."

He grins back at her. "That long, babe?"

She winks. "You know it." She stops dancing and takes his hand, leading him across the floor.

"What, we're leaving _now_?" he asks.

She raises her eyebrows. "You're objecting? Because I can wait, really."

"No, no," he says hastily. "Let's go."

She smiles as she leads him into the elevator, and once the doors close, she pounces on him, attaching her lips hungrily to his.

She may not be prom queen, but she's still pretty sure that she'd rather spend prom night sexing up her boyfriend (who'd have ever thought she'd been in a committed _relationship_?) than celebrating her victory alone. In her own way, she's a winner. And she has Sam to thank for that.

* * *

**Well, I hope you found this enjoyable. The song at the beginning is "Anywhere But Here" by SafetySuit and the song Sam dedicated to Santana was "Firework," by Katy Perry. I think both songs fit their potential relationship really well. **

**Thank you so much for reading, and it would really mean a lot to me if you could leave a review as well, or favorite, or whatever floats your boat! Haha. (:**


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